


Finally, Solace

by Emo_MabelPines



Category: Red Queen Series - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Abusive Elara Merandus, Basically Maven’s Backstory, Bisexual Male Character, Death, F/M, Lots of tears-you have been warned, M/M, Spoilers for War Storm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27491836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emo_MabelPines/pseuds/Emo_MabelPines
Summary: SPOILERS FOR WAR STORM!!! DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE SPOILED!Maven Calore is dead. Or at least dying. Mare Barrow and the Scarlet Guard have finally defeated the traitorous king but Maven has not quite resolved his internal struggle yet.
Relationships: Mare Barrow/Maven Calore (Mentioned), Mare Barrow/Tiberias "Cal" Calore VII (Mentioned), Maven Calore/Thomas
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Finally, Solace

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!
> 
> So this is basically my first fan fiction posted online so I hope you enjoy it. I’m a sucker for Maven and especially Thomaven so I might be writing a lot of these, we’ll see if I’m motivated enough.
> 
> Anyways, hope this makes you cry because it sure made me when I was writing it.

_Finally_.

After nineteen lingering years, Maven Calore has lost. The notion brings the corner of his mouth upward, only visible if one paid close attention.

The young prince had never been preeminent. He was the shadow to his brother; the flame of the north, second in line for the throne, second choice for dances and activities, second only to his perfect brother who stood in a light Maven couldn’t hope to touch. His mother had twisted him to be flawless herself, so why wasn’t he?

_Because you’re weak. You’re timorous. You’re a traitor to your own mother_.

Nevertheless, she was a traitor to him.

Elara Merandus wanted nothing but superiority and power. She loved her son once she viewed his face for the first time after birth. Even Silvers, the powerful, regal nobles with abilities meant to maim and kill, love their children. But Maven was ailing; a child with a health condition as well as a fear of the gloom and of his own mother. Elara couldn’t have that, not when the throne was at stake because a feeble boy failed to overcome his terrors. To put a stop to his frail mindset, she pried and pinched at his brain to the point where he’d cry. “It hurts, mother. It hurts.” he would sob, holding his hands on either side of his head, a habit he’d soon grow accustomed to. She would croon and gently run her acute fingers through his dark hair, the only trait he failed to receive from her, tutting at his childish behavior. Mercilessly, she would continue. But Maven never doubted his mother loved him. What mother couldn’t treasure her own flesh and blood? The queen had apprised him she was doing this out of love, everything for him, because she cherished her own child.

But now, as Maven is hanging onto his life by a thread, he speculates if she ever truly did. The prince had known love only once, legitimate love, that left him breathless and jovial, unlike the alleged love between his parents. When he first felt the emotion, he knew his mother never meant what she declared. Elara was manipulating him for her own prosperity, not for love. Nevertheless, he was foolish enough to accept it, foolish enough to adore her and do whatever he could to gain her affection.

The king of Norta, his father, looked away from his torture, knowing exactly what was happening behind closed doors but pretended not to notice nor hear the pain he went through on his quotidian schedule. Even Cal, his own brother, wasn’t enough to help Maven. Cal didn’t know, being the dense idiot he was, but was curious about the state Maven’s mother left him in, and caring when Maven’s fear of the dark devoured him, leaving him no choice but to bunk with Cal for the night. Due to Maven’s hollowed eyes and fearful gaze, Cal would acquire the chessboard, a game the brothers played frequently. The young prince found he enjoyed quality time with his elder sibling, even if it was just the two of them absent-mindedly moving pieces across a board.

Until his mother found out.

_Which do you want, child? Everything you could’ve ever wanted? Or a brick of a brother who pretends to care for you so you love him as everyone else does?_ she whispered in his head as she ran her fingers through his hair. Maven hated the tenderness she gave him when she didn’t care, hated the knowledge of what she was doing to him, but he couldn’t mute the part of him that loved her. Over the years, Silvers called him a “momma’s boy,” which he had proved relentlessly. He still craved her love and affection, as any child would. Even his favorite meal demonstrated the previous statement: grilled cheese and tomato bisque; the only cuisine his mother ever made him by hand.

Thomas happened to be the only one to prove what he was feeling wasn’t love.

A single tear, the first one he’s shed in years, slips down his face and splashes onto the silent stone beneath him. _Thomas_.

The front hadn’t been the ideal place to spend three summers, but his mother insisted. “It will be adequate for you, dear. Excel beyond your brother and gain the respect you deserve.” Maven had wearily become a soldier, fought in battles for a war that Reds and Silvers alike endured for 100 years, and ruined an already desolate childhood in the process. His only hope in the wretched, repulsive place was the red-blooded medic, a boy with no abilities and given as much respect as one would regard dirt, who treated him like a friend, a person, despite knowing his title and his power. Thomas made him smile, bringing tears to his eyes as he laughed at the medic’s goofy nature. He felt alive for the first time in his bereaved life and he was thirsty for more of that freedom. More of the sentiment he so desperately craved.

Unfortunately, every good moment comes to an end. Flames, which once inspired and awed Maven, filled Thomas’ eyes with fear and hurt as they licked away at his flesh and consumed him the way Thomas had consumed Maven. Continuous screams of agony is something he will never forget, sounding as a reminder of what Maven’s ability did to the boy he loved. Orange, red, and yellow filled his dreams along with those penetrating wails, causing him to wake in a sweat, tears cascading down his face and not a person in the world to care.

Much to his dismay, his mother hadn’t given him any support. “He was a Red. You are a Silver. He meant nothing to you, do you understand, Maven.” She told him it was wrong. In society those days, it _was_ wrong. Two boys, one silver-blooded royalty, the other a red-blooded peasant, attempting to create something as beautiful as love were interpreted as delusional and sinful. But Maven never wholly believed his mother, nor anyone who told him the same. For in his heart, no matter how assiduously he tried to hide it, he always remembered the passion he craved and the love he endured with the Red medic at the war front.

Consequently, if he squinted at Mare Barrow, the girl he adored immensely since the moment in the arena when her lightning enraptured him, he could almost perceive the lover he lost to his own flames. So he kept her close, showering her with the way he knew to love, trying to recreate that inkling of freedom. But it wasn’t enough. The little lightning girl rebelled and spit in his eye, claiming he was nothing more than a monster. A hollow shell of who he once was.

_She was right._

He got carried away. Unfortunately, his obsession laid deeper than even he could fathom. Throughout the years, he branded her, chained her, and tortured her, all for the reason that he no longer knew what love was. Ordinarily, his perfect brother was able to court her when it was too late for Maven. That sounds just like his imbecile brother, rubbing his win in Maven’s face, as if Mare were a prize or a token.

_But he wasn’t. He loved you, as did Mare at one point in time, as did everyone around you. You just failed to notice._ Maven reminds himself. The words open up new potentiality, as though doors are being opened in every crook of his brain. It’s as though his mother’s presence is washing from his soul, leaving him with the boy he was meant to be. Suddenly, he wants to laugh, to cry tears of joy. He remembers. He remembers the jokes he and Cal tossed around, the games they would play and the smiles they exchanged. Faintly, he recalls his father patting him on the back in congratulations, awarding him with a smile he never thought he’d see. He thinks of his mother reading him a story before bed when he was young and too frightful to sleep in the dark alone. Lastly, he remembers Thomas and the love they experienced, the virtuous promises they made for a fictitious future.

As Maven Calore lays on the frigid, stone ground, Mare Barrow merely inches from him with her eyes closed in a coma-like slumber, cuts and bruises forming from their brawl not even minutes before, he smiles a real, genuine smile. He remembers. Moreover, everything is as it should be. The righteous have won. Mare Barrow has _won_. The whispers of his mother’s remains have stopped uttering to him and his world is, for once, silent. With his last breath, he finds it isn’t one of resentment or vengeance, it’s of solace.

_Finally_.

**Author's Note:**

> There ya go!
> 
> If you really liked this passage and you want me to write more, just comment any prompts. I’m having trouble thinking of any myself.
> 
> Also, any feedback is welcome! Don’t be afraid to hurt my feelings, I can take it.


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